


A New Soviet Union

by leninxstalinfujo (uwumlauts)



Category: The Soviet Union - Fandom, USSR - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Muscles, alpha!lenin, hardcore fucking, omega!stalin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwumlauts/pseuds/leninxstalinfujo
Summary: union: the action or fact of joining or being joined, especially in a political context. politics didn't play any role in this union, however--it was a fiery union of both hearts and bodies.
Relationships: Vladimir Lenin/Joseph Stalin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	A New Soviet Union

It was a chilly day in Mother Russia. The wind was blowing, and the overcast sky suggested snow seductively, as if it was an inside joke and not Russia, where snow fell frequently. Stalin shivered; his frail, supple Omega body could not take the blistery cold. His mahogany orbs settled on a quaint кофейный магазин across the street, and he hurried over.   
Entering the shop, he was immediately stricken by the barista behind the counter. His gorgeous maroon eyes glinted like a freshly opened bottle of vodka. They captured Stalin’s heart at first glance. A strong, musky scent enveloped the man with the coffee colored hair, and nearly swept him off of his feet when he breathed it in. It smelled like vodka, motor grease, and cigars, which combined together in a surprisingly harmonious way. There was a hint of something else, that smelled much more… dangerous, but Stalin couldn’t quite tell what it was.   
“You buy кофе, baby?” The man at the counter purred. Stalin flushed, not expecting the statuesque man to notice someone small and insignificant like him.   
“Niet, I have no money, sir… I merely am seeking shelter from the tempestuous conditions outside.” Stalin paused a second, hesitant to continue. “Please excuse my presence, I shall leave if I must, sir.”   
“No, no, that will not do! You must stay here. You need a place to stay the night, no? I provide shelter. Warm home, good beets. You will enjoy.” The baldette stroked his vast, bald expanse, mind filled with only the most depraved things he could do to this attractive Omega. From his voluptuous, stocky figure, to his submissive personality, the Omega was everything an Alpha could ask for. While he nervously twisted his уша́нка in his hands, Lenin couldn’t help but undress the boy with his eyes, devouring every last hidden curve and crevice.   
Feeling the man’s eyes upon him, Stalin grew more uncomfortable. However, he also thirsted to touch his skin and explore every nook and cranny of his body with his tongue. These kinds of thoughts didn’t come to Stalin often, as he was as pure and untouched as a sealed bottle of vodka. They only occurred when he was in heat. In his innocent, virginal manner, he finally stepped further into the кофейный магазин after gathering his courage. He looked down, anxiously, because he’d never felt this way towards another man before. Love between men wasn’t discouraged in the Motherland, per se, but his attractions had never strayed from women.   
Now, with the introduction of this man, he had an awakening. Man was the fairer sex of the two by far; this one fine specimen pulled the average up significantly. Stalin was in such a daze that he didn’t notice the man speaking in his deep, luxurious voice for a few moments until he was jolted out of his daydream by the strange feeling that someone was watching him.  
Indeed, someone was. In fact, it was the very object of his daydreams he lusted for so fervently. His deep chocolate orbs were clouded with hunger and desire for the succulent fruit that was Stalin. Stalin flushed, and experienced an uncomfortable tightness in his government-issued брюки. He moved closer to the counter, magnetized by the clear animalistic craving that was present in the broad-shouldered man. “E-excuse me? What did you say? I could not hear you.”  
The man’s taut muscles rippled as he leaned forward and smirked. “I said, would you sit down? I make you cognac. Will warm you up.” Stalin nodded eagerly, and sat down at one of the tables, crossing his long, lithe legs. “What is name? Will call you over when cognac is ready for consumption.” Stalin trembled and felt his circulatory system become conflicted as it could not decide whether to flow to his face or his throbbing cock.   
“My name is Josef… Josef Stalin, sir. What may I call you, mister?” The hulking man lumbering from out behind the counted and approached Stalin’s table slowly, but with a surprising grace. The smell of cognac overwhelmed the lissome brunette, making him feel lightheaded. It wasn’t a distressing feeling, but more comforting, like the embrace of a indigent lover.

"Me? You may call me... daddy."


End file.
